The True Heir
by Awkwardnarwhal93
Summary: In a world where Joffrey was not the heir to the iron throne. Cersei and Roberts first born son threatening his power, Joffrey intends to make his life a miserable hell. This follows their childhood to the upcoming sixth season of Game of Thrones. Who ends up King? And who will be his Queen? *ABANDONED*
1. Prologue

Prologue

 _16 years ago_

Cersei

"It's a boy!" The midwife cried "You have a son, your grace!"

Joy and relief spread through Cersei like wildfire. It was a boy. Her and Jaime's son. An heir to secure the iron throne and rule the seven kingdoms. Hot tears of joy gushed down her face as the shrieks of a healthy newborn echoed through the chambers. Jaime, who was by her side throughout the whole labor, gave her hand a squeeze of congratulations. Jaime was not the type of man that feared child birth. Robert, her king husband, was nowhere in sight. He fled to the Kingswood hunting some animal to present to her after she bore his heir.

The longer the midwives checked her son for problems the more Cersei ached to hold the future king. Her patient was going short and she imagined their heads on spikes before she lost her temper.

"Give him to me." Cersei instructed forcefully.

The midwife bundled the infant up and gently placed him in his mothers awaiting arms. It was that moment that Cersei's blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Tufts of dark hair stared at her from upon her son's head. All bliss deflated from her body. This was Roberts spawn. Not her beloved baby boy with Jaime that she excepted. Visions of a Robert replica swarmed her mind. A drunk, abusive, fat king. Every fiber in her being wanted to rid of the monstrosity right then and there. Considerations of his murder clouded her head not allowing her to think clearly as a queen should.

"Jaime." She said and her twin looked knowingly down at her.

"May we have a moment?"

At his order the midwives bustled out of the room. Jaime noticed how stiffly his sister held her new babe and how her green eyes blazed with hatred. He cautiously couched down and wrapped his hand around hers.

"You can't Cersei."

"Why not? Nobody will expect anything. We just feed it some nightshade and tell everyone it died of a fever! It will be like it never existed." She said calmly.

"This is your son!"

The child in Cersei's arms let out a cry and Cersei made a grimace of disgust, holding it out away from her body. She refused to look at him.

"Jaime please! I can't raise Roberts offspring!" Cersei pleaded.

"At least look at the poor thing before you murder him." Jaime was determined to save the baby from his parent's mistakes. From his mistakes. If he never lay with Cersei, she would never had excepted to have a golden child and maybe this kid would have a fighting chance. If she were to kill the baby the guilt would consume him.

Cersei reluctantly peered down at the tiny life in her arms. Instead of nitpicking the similarities between the king and his son like she intended to, she saw all the differences. Unlike Robert the mop of locks on the boy's head was a deep brown instead of black. He didn't inherit the unruly ringlets of his father but the soft curls of his mother. The rest of him was all Cersei. The deep emerald eyes matched Cersei's almost completely and he had the sharp Lannister features. The little tyke gave out a yawn and failed his arms and bailed up his tiny hands into fists.

Cersei's heart raced loudly in her ears unable to calm down. The young woman was utterly and completely torn. He was Roberts child. The one person she could say that she truly hated. But he was also her son. _Hers._ Cersei uncertainly tightened her grip around the bundle. Maybe she could love him.

The dark haired prince was unusually clam for a newborn and he appeared at peace nestled in his mother arms like he belonged there. The more Cersei absorbed his beauty the more she wanted to be a mother to him. For this moment it was just him and her in their own little bubble. Cersei feared that would change once Robert returned to the castle.

"This is my son." Cersei said.

Jaime broke into a wide grin. "You'll keep him?"

"You have to help me, Jaime. I can't let Robert control my son. I can't."

"Of course sweet sister." Jaime gently stroked the baby's cheek. "He's beautiful isn't he?"

Cersei marvelled at the chubby babe in her arms. "Yes. What did you expect?"

The Queen chuckled slightly and let her son wrap his hand around her index finger. She let out a content sigh. She was happy. Truly happy. Even though she hated the idea of having Roberts son, she did and she loved him. Nobody took take away the joy she felt in that moment. Not even the king himself as Robert was off on a hunting trip.

"Have you thought what to call him?" Her twin asked.

"Not yet. I shall discuss it with Robert when he returns."

She already had names in mind but she would have to compromise wit Robert on what to call their son. No matter what, Cersei was determined that she would not call her little boy after a Baratheon.

Cersei gazed loving at her son. He was Lion. Even if he appeared to be a stag.

* * *

 **Authors note/ Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or The Song of Ice and Fire.**

 **I know this was short but it's a prologue its supposed to be. And I wanted your guy's opinion on something. What should Cersei son be named? I thought of two options.**

 **Gurion/Guri**

 **It means "My lion Cub."**

 **I'm a little hesitate to use it because it sounds an awful lot like Tyrion.**

 **Lander**

 **It means "Lion" or "Lion man"**

 **Pleeeease Review if you want me to continue this fanfiction! And tell me where you want this story to go! I already have an idea but I would love to hear your take.**

 **Here are the ages of the kids when this story catches up to the first book/season 1 of Game of Thrones**

 **Jon 16**

 **Robb 16**

 **Cersei and Roberts child 16**

 **Joffrey 15**

 **Sansa 14**

 **Arya 12**

 **Myrcella 11**

 **Tommen 10**

 **Bran 10**

 **I tried to stick to the ages of the show but some are a year or so off because I went off of the books for the age gaps between the children.**

 **Okay that's enough rambling. I have a tenancy to write wayyyyyyyyyyyy to long of author notes. Sorry about that. Bye!**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


	2. Arrival at Winterfell

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire.**

 **Authors note: Based upon your reviews I decided to go with the name Steffon requested by guest reviewer Michael. For the people who are confused by Steffon being the first born let me explain. I stated that Joffrey was threated by Steffon and you guys freaked out "He can't be threatened if Steffon is first born blahblahblahblah." If I remember correctly I said that Steffon is threatening his power. Keyword: POWER. Joffrey is a freaking prince. He still had power. He just doesn't like that Steffon can over rule him. Sorry that I didn't clarify. For the people that don't like the storyline, you can either stop reading or continue without complaint because I have a plan. At the end of the day its only fanfiction. Thank you for the name suggestions. I learned that my taste in names suck haha. Now on to the story.**

Steffon

 _Present day_

The icy air whipped Steffon's face as they maneuvered pass the gates of Winterfell. He could hear Joffrey complain about the cold over the crunch of rocks beneath his horse's feet. Steffon was tempted to turn around and tell him to shut his trap but that would earn him a lecture from his mother. The sixteen-year-old clamped his mouth shut and gripped the reins tighter. The horse let out a grunt and Steffon had to smile a bit more. He had ridden this horse ever since he learned to ride at the tender age of 5. He had taken a liking to the steed and could confidently say it was his best friend.

The white stallion, whom Steffon called Moon, galloped behind the king and two Kingsguards that accompanied the royal family on their journey. Clouds loomed over making their usually bright armor look dim. Compared to King's Landing, Winterfell's appearance was dull. Though bigger, the castle of Winterfell was no comparison to the bold red pigment of the Red Keep. In Steffon's opinion Winterfell had a more welcoming feel to it. The gray stones looked lived in unlike his formal home. The people in Winterfell laughed with enjoyment but at home people buzzed with gossip and secrets. In King's Landing Steffon had felt the need to always be proper but here Steffon sensed that he could feel free of the pressure of royalty, he hoped.

Civilians of Winterfell swarmed around them making Steffon suddenly very self conscious and he tried to focus on the steam leaving his mouth and into the cold atmosphere. His breath flowed into to the air and up around his face. Steffon had never felt this cold in his life as he rarely left king's Landing. He tugged his furs tighter around is broad shoulders hoping to gain some warmth. The one thing he missed about the south was its hot weather. He didn't realize how warm the climate was until he experienced the north.

They stopped riding when they were greeted by the Starks. The seven Starks stood in order from oldest to youngest. Steffon assumed the man with graying hair and beard was Lord Stark and the women was his wife, Catelyn Stark originally Tully. The oldest Stark sibling looked about to be Steffon's age. He had traces of facial hair and Steffon ran his gloved hand over his bare chin, wondering when that would happen to him. Next to him stood two girls. The older one had striking red hair and resembled Lady Stark while the younger one was a copy of Eddard Stark. They appeared to be arguing.

"Look! It's Jaime Lannister! The kingslayer!" The little Stark girl pointed at Steffon's uncle and tugged on her sister's sleeve.

"Please, would you shut up!"

Steffon had to choke in a laugh at the rivaling sisters. He hoped that their fights were nothing like the battles that he and Joffrey had gotten in.

"Ned!" Robert bellowed a laugh.

His father jumped down from his horse with a grunt and waddled over to his old friend. Robert crushed him in an embrace and Steffon thought he was going to break Lord Stark's ribs. Steffon grimaced internally. His mother, Tommen and Myrcella exited the wheelhouse they were riding in while himself and Joffrey dismounted their horses. The six gathered in front of the Starks.

"My children: Steffon, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen." Robert introduced them.

"Your oldest boy looks just like you, Robert." Ned said.

That statement wasn't true. Steffon still took after his mother when it came to looks. Except his hair had darkened from when he was a babe. Now the colouring matched the king which disappointed Cersei greatly. Steffon eyes still sparkled green like a true Lannister and his brothers and sister. In truth Steffon got irritated when people claim he took after his father. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen all reminded people of the queen but Steffon of the king. He didn't even look like Robert except his hair. At least in his eyes.

Steffon scanned his eyes over the Starks of Winterfell making accidental eye contact with the older Stark girl, Sansa. He titled his head forward to be polite. A smile crept on her lips and her cheeks turned a rose colour as she blushed. Sansa's icy blue eyes averted back to her feet. She saw Joffrey and acted similar which confused Steffon. Did she act like this around all the male species or just princes?

His father continued talking to Lord Stark. "Take me down to your crypts Eddard. I would pay my respects."

Steffon watched as his mother protested these action saying that they've been riding for a month and that they all should get some rest but Robert brushed her off and went anyway. A man with gray armor with a direwolf on the breastplate, whom Steffon assume to be one of the Starks guards, escorted them to their chambers. When they stepped inside the Stark's castle Steffon was surrounded by tall stone walls. Steffon thought the thick stones would trap out the cold but inside still had a chill. The family walked through the castle their steps against the stone tiles echoing.

Steffon's chamber was the first in the hall. The huge metal door squeaked loudly when he shoved it ajar. Inside was huge bed that could easily fit 4 of him, pressed up against the right wall. On the opposing wall was a round wooden table. Sitting in the center of the table was a single candle that illuminated a minor portion of the rather large bedchamber. Discoloured white wax dripped down the candle, over the metal holder and finally made a pool of melted candle on the table. Steffon unpacked and placed a small trinket on the outside edge of the wax covered wood. It was a statuette of a lion with antlers of a stag where the ears should be. Steffon carved it out of wood as a child. He couldn't remember exactly what age he was when he made it. Probably around 10 or 11. It was one of his prized possessions.

Next, he pulled a large dagger from his boot. He wrapped his palm around the gold handle. The metal felt cool against his hand. In the handle beautiful designs and swirls were carved out. The workmanship of the blade was excellent. Steffon set it down next to the lion-stag figurine and watched the flame reflect in the steel.

The young man felt his eyelids growing tired with sleep. He didn't realize how exhausted he was until his moment. The long trip to Winterfell and dealing with Joffrey must have tired him out. Steffon flopped his muscular physique on the soft fur blankets that graced the bed. He nestled his face against the comforting furs and before he could process another thought sleep captured him, sending Steffon in a world of dreams.

* * *

"Up you go!"

Steffon reluctantly peeled his eyelids open. Standing above him stood his father, king Robert Baratheon. With Steffon laying down Robert seemed like a giant. Robert looked down at Steffon with his shocking blue eyes. Steffon groaned and propped himself up on his left elbow, wanting to relinquish back to sleep. The bed moaned and sank when Robert sat down. He ruffled Steffon's black mop of bedhead.

"I have something of important matters to tell you."

That statement made Steffon fly up to a sitting position. "What Father?"

Steffon noticed that Roberts expression turned sour like he didn't want to tell. A pit formed deep in Steffon's stomach and it was growing larger ever second of Robert's silence. Hush took over the room and the only sound was the indistinct howling of the direwolves outside. Robert sighed heavily.

"You will wed one of Lord Stark's daughters. Joffrey the other."

Steffon felt a rush of anxiety pulse through his chest. He did not want to get married. To anyone. Not anytime soon. Steffon did not want to end up like his parents. Forced into an unhappy marriage. Always arguing. Steffon rung his fingers in his hand awkwardly. He searched his troubled brain for a way to escape the impossible situation. To avoid eye contact, Steffon darted his eyes to a chink in the stone walls. He could feel Robert staring at him, burning a hole in his shoulder, waiting for an answer. A think tension occupied the area.

"How soon?" Steffon finally choked out.

Robert clasped his sons shoulder. "Don't fret, my boy. Ned Stark hasn't agreed to the betrothal. Not yet anyway, the fool."

Steffon let his tensed muscles go slack at the dismissing news and sighed of relief. Robert chortled and slapped Steffon's back.

"I told you first, besides your mother, so you would get to pick which girl you would like to marry. If I were you I would choose the most fuckable one!" He snickered again and Steffon let out a nervous laugh.

"I don't know. I- I guess- I pick- Uh."

" _I will not marry that wench_!"

Steffon's father rolled his eyes at Joffrey's scream. The second born son stormed in, his arms tightly crossed. His face flamed red with anger and Steffon had to confess that his younger brother in a destressed state amused him. Joffrey looked at him with annoyance, his orbs blaring with infuriation in the same shade of green as Steffon.

"I will not wed Arya Stark! She looks like a boy."

"It is a good match." Steffon remarked. "As you look like a girl."

"Shut you mouth, you senseless cunt!"

"Watch your tongue!"

Steffon and Joffrey quieted at Roberts roar as they often did when Robert released his rage. Robert pushed himself of the bed, letting it return to its higher location. The king leaned down to meet the lower height of Joffrey.

"You will not talk to the future king like that! Do you understand!"

Joffrey was silent.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"

"Yes father."

Joffrey's voice shook with fear as he spoke. Steffon could tell that he was close to tears. Nobody frequently shouted at the prince and when they do, Joffrey reacts badly. Steffon thought that Joffrey should get harangued more. Their mother always went soft of her second son.

"Good. Now you two will work this out. Like men. Not like the little boys you act like." With that Robert excited the room.

Steffon shoved his hands to his pockets to refrain from strangling his brother. Joffrey grinded his teeth so hard that Steffon could hear it.

"I think that its fair that I wed to Sansa and you to Arya because I'm older." Steffon tired to reason.

"Do you even desire to marry? Anyone?"

"Well no."

Joffrey stepped closer. "You're not ready to rule. You're not ready to marry. You're not ready to breed. This will happen sooner if you marry Sansa rather than that other one. I think you'll be a pathetic king."

Joffrey was right. Steffon did not want any of that but the final thing Joffrey said enraged him, so he argued on.

"At least I'll be king. Something you will never have."

Joffrey's face emitted with heat of blind rage. Steffon had no moment to react before Joffrey reached behind him to the wooden tabled and snatched the golden dagger.

Steffon was shoved back into the wall. Coldness of the walls graced his back, sending shivers down his spine. The blade was pressed up against his throat. His neck stung where the dagger had broken skin. Steffon was afraid to move. Joffrey's arm pinned him to the wall. Steffon could easily knock Joffrey off but the metal against his throat stopped him.

"Not if I killed you."

 **Duh duh duh. Cliffhanger. I hope this chapter was alright. I think Joffrey was a little out of character but I tried. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. I would like to hear your suggestions. I meant to update this yesterday but I was busy. Its currently 12:10 AM so I was close.**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


	3. Bonding with Sansa

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or A song of Ice and Fire.**

More blood pooled around the sharp blade as it broke more layers of Steffon's skin. With the cool dagger threatening him, Steffon did not dare to move. Steffon locked eyes with Joffrey, whom was still pressing the dagger into Steffon's throat. Cruelness glimmered in his brother's eyes and a smirk tugged on Joffrey's lips.

"You won't kill me, Joff."

"I won't?" Joffrey asked sarcastically.

"No. You won't."

Steffon swiftly grasped Joffrey's wrist and pushed it upward, the dagger peeling a few layers off Steffon's neck and chinked his chin. Roughly, Steffon pushed Joffrey forward. Joffrey slid on his back on the stone tiles dragging Steffon down with him. Pain inflamed Steffon's head and nose as they smashed against that hard surface of the floor. With his vision blurring, Steffon twisted Joffrey's arm so the gold dagger that was still clutched in Joffrey's hand was pointed at the blonde. The older boy reached down Joffrey's arm and firmly seized his fist that held the dagger in his. Steffon aimed it directly over Joffrey's heart. The feeling of Joffrey shaking of fear underneath him made Steffon desire to evacuate the brawl but he couldn't let Joffrey get away with threatening to kill him.

Steffon looked down at his little brothers terrified expression. Tears were threatening to escape Joffrey's eyes.

"Steffon. Don't do this." He begged.

Steffon froze. He never planned on killing Joffrey or even hurting him. He just wanted to scare him. The fresh layer of flesh on Steffon's neck burned and warm blood dripped down his chin and nose. Steffon watched as his blood trickled from his chin and nose and dripped on Joffrey's face. Steffon still pinned Joffrey to the ground afraid that he was going to try to kill him again. Tears continuously spilled from Joffrey's eyes and down his flushed cheeks. Steffon was conflicted. Never would he ever murder his own flesh and blood. Maybe if he just taught him a lesson…

Abruptly the heavy metal door to the chambers swung open. Steffon whipped his head around to see the intruder. It was his mother. The anger in her eyes made Steffon feel disappointed in himself for allowing Joffrey to instigate him.

"Steffon! What are you doing?" Shock covered her face. "Get off of him!"

She rushed over with bunches of her gown clasped him her hands to travel faster across the room. Steffon got shoved off Joffrey and again, he slammed on the stone ground. He lay there as he watched his mother lean over Joffrey and cup his sobbing face into her hands. Steffon tried to wipe the sticky blood off his face with the back of his hand but failed miserably and smeared it.

"He attacked me!" Joffrey cried.

Cersei peered over her shoulder at Steffon. He wanted to defend himself. He wanted to scream the truth and get Joffrey disciplined. He wanted his mother to believe him. But he knew that would never happen. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he bit his tongue so hard he drew blood.

"Is this true?"

When Steffon didn't answer she asked again.

"Steffon! Is this true!" It sounded more like a command than a question.

"Yes mother."

Steffon's mother turned back to her younger son and requested the story of what happened. Joffrey gave Steffon a slight grin before proceeding to tell their mother a false tale about how Steffon attack him because he wouldn't surrender his love for Sansa and Joffrey tried to fight back, hence the blood on Steffon. Throughout the fiction Cersei would give Steffon a look of shame that made Steffon's stomach flip.

She scoffed in disgust and shook her head sending golden locks in the air before inquiring Steffon's opinion of what occurred. "Steffon. You will tell me the truth. Do you understand?"

Steffon nodded.

"Is that what happened?"

"Yes mother."

The queen lifted herself off the floor and approached her oldest. She bent down to her knees and grabbed Steffon's face and forced Steffon's eyes to meet hers. For a moment Steffon thought she didn't trust the fabricated lie that Joffrey spun.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes mother." He lied.

She raised her hand and lowered it across Steffon face. His mother had slapped him. Out of shock, Steffon's jaw dropped. His mother had never hit him with such force before. Sure, she had pinched his arm or swatted his behind as a child. She had one of guards or one of her handmaidens give him a whack but never had she back handed him.

Hot tears welled in Steffon eyes but it wasn't from his throbbing face. Steffon could handle the pain. What got Steffon distraught was the guise of hurt on his mother's face. The tears started to burn from not being released. The more Steffon struggled to contain the salty tears, the more distressed he got. When the tears drizzled down his face, Steffon turned his face away from Joffrey's and Cersei's sight. He did not want to seem weak.

Steffon distributed his tears while Cersei straightened her dress. His mother helped Joffrey up by his arms and exited the room. Before the duo completely left, the queen turned to Steffon.

"For your punishment, you will allow Joffrey to wed Sansa. You will tell no one. Yes?"

Steffon did not want to yield Sansa into the hands of his brother but he also did not want to spite his mother. The Baratheon had to ponder this option for a second. If he refused and wed the girl, he would cause his mother and Joffrey to be livid. Joffrey would unleash his wrath, though that was nothing to be afraid of. But it was his mother who stopped him from refusing the deal. He didn't want her to be more infuriated with him than she already was. And what was the cons of not marrying Sansa? He didn't even know her. Yes, she was gorgeous with her flaming red hair and her blue eyes that could captured any man but what if she was a terrible wife? What if they ended up like Robert and Cersei? Steffon shuttered at the mere thought.

If he did marry her instead of her younger sister Arya, they would wed and have little princes and princess sooner than Steffon would ever want. He didn't know if Sana had bled yet, (Why in the name of the gods would he know that?) but if she had, they would be expected to pop out children quicker. If he were to marry Arya, he wouldn't have children for years. In the back of his mind, Steffon knew it would be superior for the realm if he had an heir faster but the 16 year old was only thinking what was best for him. Some one had to put his interest first.

"Yes mother."

Cersei gave her son a slight smile that Steffon believed was compassionate. The expression in her emerald coloured eyes was one that Steffon was perplexed by. It wasn't a regretful look. Steffon supposed his mother wouldn't feel apologetic for anything that benefited Joffrey. Steffon realized that his mother was too complex of a character to pinpoint her emotions.

"Be a good boy and clean yourself. We have a feast to attend." Then they were gone.

At the mention of the feast Steffon felt his heart thump faster in his chest. Sansa would be there. Immediately, Steffon scolded himself. He just assured his mother that Joffrey would have Sansa. Steffon thought that the whole conflict was absurd. Sansa wasn't a prize to be attained. She was a lovely girl that should be able to decide who she wanted to wed for herself. Running his fingers through his curly hair, Steffon sighed. He knew that wasn't how betrothals worked. It was times like this that Steffon downright loathed being part of a dominant house. Nothing was about love. The marriage was about alliances and power. The poor girl was stuck with Joffrey as a husband. If she had to live with that beast she should have a friend. A supporter. Could he at least befriend the girl? Yes, that was what he was going to do. He was going to get to know her, Joffrey and Cersei be damned.

Steffon returned up to a stand. He walked over to the wooden table were the dagger used to sit. Never would he keep a weapon in plain sight again. The statuette of the lion with antlers still was there. Steffon grabbed the wooden toy. He turned it thrice in his palm. Sometimes, Steffon wished that the Lannister's and the Baratheon's never mixed. With a loud snap, Steffon broke the antlers off. Both piece tumbled to the floor. They hit the floor with a bang against the stone. The lion broke into two parts. Angry, Steffon kicked the fragments of the model. The bits flew into opposite directions. One flew under the table. One hit the hall and landed back to the ground. Steffon didn't notice where the antlers went. The boy stormed out of the room, looking for water to rid of the blood that decorated his face.

After Steffon rinsed the blood off his face, he trekked down to the great hall. Late, as he always was, everybody was already seated. Steffon was sure to get a scolding about it. Inaudibly, he slipped in and hurried to where the Stark and Baratheon children were sitting. Steffon felt awkward being the only one tardy. He could feel his mother's eyes on him. Steffon ignored it and straddled the bench beside Sansa. She was talking to her friend, Steffon knew her last name was Poole, and bosting about how she was going to marry a prince and live in Kings Landing. Bring a hand to his mouth, Steffon cleared his throat.

Sansa turned around to face him. "Oh! Hello, my prince."

Steffon strained not to roll his eyes at the formality but to be courteous be returned it.

"Hello, my lady. How are you this fine evening?"

"Good. I am enjoying the feast. And you?"

Steffon flashed her a charming grin. "Good."

Sansa vigilantly observed her surroundings before leaning closer to Steffon. Her hair floated over his shoulder, tickling his neck. Eye contact was made.

"I hear that we might be married?" She giggled.

Steffon's voice got caught. Nope. She was Joffrey's. They would never wed. Steffon was promised to her little sister. Against his better judgment, Steffon avoided that detail.

"Yes, we might."

Slowly, a beam graced her pink lips and she inclined even closer to him. Her lips brushed his ear and she began to whisper.

"I'm hoping I wed you and not Joffrey."

 _Shit._

This unfortunate girl, was getting so childishly excited over something that was never going to happen. Steffon felt guilty for not feeling guilty but he was determined to give Sansa a few blissful moments before she was released to Joffrey.

"Me too."

That wasn't a total fib. He would rather Sansa be with him than Joffrey. Steffon skimmed the large room and found Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen at the next table, chatting away and eating. Steffon grabbed Sansa's pale hands and pulled her up.

"Lets go for a walk."

When they exited the hall, a breath of cold air rushed around them. If Steffon thought earlier was cold, then this weather was ice. Any hair that was damp was frozen. A light flurry of snow swirled in the black sky. Snowflakes caught in Sansa's hair. The whiteness highlighted her bright red hair. A warmth was suddenly around his lower legs. Steffon looked down. A direwolf assembled at Steffon's feet, panting with its pink tongue out.

"That's Lady." Sansa laughed. "She seems to like you."

Steffon reached a frozen hand down and ruffled in-between the wolfs large ears. It was a stunning creature. Steffon had never seen a direwolf in person before. As the pair continued to stroll down a gravelly path, the direwolf trotted beside them.

"How did you get her? I thought direwolves were beyond the wall?" Steffon said.

"My brothers found a dead direwolf in the forest. Killed by a stag." She explained. "She had six pups. My father wanted to kill them but my brothers wouldn't let him."

She stroked the wolf affectionately. Steffon thought the bond between the Starks and their animals were amazing. The direwolf had a violent nature but somehow the Starks had trained them to be tender.

"I had a dog once." Steffon confessed.

"You did? What happen to it?"

"Joffrey killed it."

Sansa's face went sour. "That's awful!"

The memory was fresh in Steffon's mind. He had been almost 9 years of age. He and Joffrey had been at their lessons. Using wooden swords as a child should, Joffrey complained. He sought an actual sword. At first their teacher had refused, claiming it was too dangerous. Joffrey threw a fit. He flung himself on the ground and screamed and cried. Fed up, their instructor gave in and provided him and Steffon metal blades. Being curious, Steffon's puppy had trailed him to his class.

Regrettably Steffon had been coaching his canine to attack when he was in danger. At the first swing of a sword, the dog was running toward them, barking wildly. Joffrey had struck the dog. It had given out a last yelp. Blood had splattered the grass. Traumatised, Steffon remembers crying at the top of his lungs and begging his pup to wake up. He had run over and knelt beside the dead corpse. He tried to stop the bleeding with hands but it was too late.

The next thing Steffon knew, he was folded in his uncle Jaime's arms and lifted away from the scene. Jaime had stroked his nephew's hair whispering words of comfort. Steffon had experienced the emotion grief and his uncle helped him through it. Steffon's mother had tried to ease his pain, holding him and saying that he could get another dog but Steffon had wanted no other dog.

After Steffon voiced the horror to Sansa, her cheeks were wet. Steffon hadn't meant to tell her the dreadful story but it slipped out. Steffon distributed of her tears with his sleeve.

"Don't cry. The tears will freeze to your face." He said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so upset." She sniffled.

Steffon cupped her face. Her face was chilly. His lips tingled as Steffon pecked her blushed cheek causing her to laugh slightly. Her happiness made him smile. He didn't want her to be sad. Steffon took her by the hand and they were also cold to his touch.

"Come, let's get you inside. Your freezing."

Hand in hand they strolled back to the great hall. Steffon pulled open the heavy door and allowed her to enter first. The two sat in their original seats and talked and ate and drank all night. Well, until Arya threw food at her and ruined the whole conversation.

 _Thanks a lot Arya._

 **Authors note: Chapter 2 done! Did you guys like it? I had trouble writing it. I hope its not too bad. What would you like to read next? I have no inkling on how the next chapter will go but I'll figure it out. Are you disappointed that Steffon won't marry Sansa? I wanted to stick to her despair of marrying Joffrey. I know there was a lot of crying in this chapter bit I didn't realize until I was done writing. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please review.**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


	4. Authors note

**Authors note: This is not a new chapter. Sorry to the readers who enjoy this story. I have to address the negative reviews the chapter "Bonding with Sansa" got. I am open to criticism. But I am not open to people telling me the chapter was terrible, I need to rewrite, I screwed up the character ect. I am relatively new to the world of fanfiction and have no clue how to respond to negative reviewers.**

 **What really bothered me was people saying I made Steffon weak or a coward. I was trying to show that Steffon was a dimensional character and wasn't stuck with one or two personality traits. The whole point of Steffon lying to Cersei and not beating Joffrey was Steffon having a weakness. We all have them. I'm not going to make a perfect character with no flaws. That's not realistic. Steffon grew up with Joffrey, of course he is going to have issues. His flaw is that he wants his mothers love. And Cersei loves Joffrey. Therefore, in Steffon's mind if he is nice and "loves" Joffrey, Cersei will love him too. That's why he lied to his mother. That's why he let Joffrey marry Sansa. If it was anyone else besides Joffrey or Cersei, he would have kicked their ass. And even if I had Steffon a coward, so what? That would be his character. I wanted to be original. Most fanfiction about the true born is that he/she is second born. Most is about the true born being tough and standing up to Joffrey. I didn't want to write that.**

 **I'm fine with correcting my grammar, or if I wrote a fanfiction that completely didn't make sense or my writing technique. But please don't say I messed up MY character. It would be different if I was writing about a character that was already developed or for example: Joffrey. If I made him sweet and innocent, I would understand if people were mad at that.**

 **I am not raging and saying if you don't leave a positive review I am not going to write. I'm not. I just had an urge to get this off my chest. Please don't say that I shouldn't complain or that I should suck it up. I'm only defending my right to create a character the way I want him to be.**

 **I am not ignoring that fact that you guys don't like that way I'm taking this fanfiction. Today, I sat down and re-planned the story to a direction I think the reader will enjoy.**

 **Thank you for at least reviewing. I am going to keep chapter 3 the way it is. I worked really hard on it. I apologize to anyone who didn't like it and I hope you embrace the rest of the fanfiction. If anyone would like to leave suggestions on how I can make the story more appealing to you, feel free.**

 **Thanks for listening to me ramble.**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


	5. Secrets discovered

**Authors note: I'm so so so sorry, I haven't updated it a VERY long time. I have no excuse except for the fact that I simply wasn't motivated. I tried to sit down and write but I just couldn't. Blame it on writer block. I apologize again. I'm sorry but better late than never, right?**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"What the hell do you want?"

Steffon yelled at the direwolf circling him. The direwolf growled as Steffon gently shoved it with his leg. The action left grey fur stuck to his pants. With a sigh, Steffon brushed it off. He'd been taking a stroll around the perimeter of Winterfell with Moon, the steed had been restless, and the direwolf wouldn't leave them alone. It trotted beside them, howling.

"Go find Bran!" Steffon snapped at the animal. "And leave me alone!"

Ever since his brawl with Joffrey, Steffon was stuck in a sour mood. And at the moment Bran's direwolf was getting on his last nerve. The wolf howled again sending Moon into a frenzy of panic. The horse neighed and tried to swerve in the opposite direction of the direwolf. The horse's hooves dug into the ground, sending dirt at Steffon. Mud splattered his clothes. Steffon rolled his eyes in annoyance. Nothing was going his way lately.

"Easy Moon."

Steffon pulled at the reins from his spot on the ground and mentally scolded himself for not riding him. If he did attaining the beast would be a lot easier. But he needed to blow off steam and he thought going for a saunter would help him.

They continued their journey around the castle trying their best to ignore the screaming direwolf but as they approached an old tower the barks got more desperate.

Suddenly, the back of Steffon's leg broke into a slight rush of discomfort. He scrunched his nose up in pain and whipped his head around to find that the direwolf had nipped at his leg and tore his pants plus a couple layers of skin as well.

"Ugh!" Steffon grunted and held his limb, waiting for the stinging to stop.

Maybe this is why his mother claimed that direwolves belong North of the wall. As a boy, Steffon disagreed, saying that it's not what you're born as that makes you who you are, but what you're raised to be. Cersei would just roll her eyes and tell Steffon that direwolves will always be direwolves. After the disobedience of Bran's wolf, Steffon started to question his morals. For the short time Steffon knew the Starks, Bran seemed to him like a sweet kid. What kid would train their pet to act in such behaviour?

After he could tolerate the wound, he brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and observed his surroundings. Now, the direwolf was no longer near him. Instead it was skimming the edge of the old tower, looking up at an opening in the stone. Steffon followed the direwolf's gaze up. Realization filled him. Near the opening, a young boy, who Steffon recognized as Bran, climbed. The prince groaned in frustration. He had enough of his own problems and now he had to deal with the Starks?

Steffon cupped his gloved hands around his mouth and called "Bran!"

Bran did not hear him.

"Brandon!" He tried again. "You should get down! It is not safe!"

Steffon debated with himself. Should he attempt to climb up and retrieve the young Stark? Or should he trust that Bran could get down himself.

The better side of Steffon won out. After tethering Moon to a nearby tree, Steffon jogged over to the tower. He scaled it with his eyes. It looked unsteady like the stones could come loose if you pulled them the wrong way. Steffon shook his head. No. He was not going to second guess himself. He took a hold of one of the more secure stones and pulled himself upwards. With his right foot he dug into a small gap in the wall and pushed up. He was about to repeat the process when he heard a small gasp from above him.

Someone reached out from the opening and seized a fistful of Brans tunic. Fear was pasted on Brans face.

"Hey!" Steffon's voice didn't reach them.

Steffon could hear the unknown person talk but he couldn't make out the words. Steffon pushed himself up again, desperately wanting to reach Bran. After a few climbs up, Steffon could barley comprehend the words.

"The things I do for love."

The hands shoved Bran from the tower.

Time looked as if it was slow motion. Steffon quickly stumbled off the tower and ran to the boy. His legs felt like jelly and his head raced with thoughts. Steffon prayed to the seven that this was just a horrendous nightmare. Usually Steffon didn't fully believe in the seven. He didn't usually believe in the old gods either. There was so many unanswerable questions and Steffon was sceptical but Steffon needed to pray to someone. Anyone.

It was an eternity in Steffon's head before he reached Bran. Bran lay limp on the ground. His legs sprawled out abnormally making Steffon's stomach turn. Steffon fought the urge to vomit.

"Bran! Please wake up! Bran!" Steffon fell to his knees beside him.

Steffon carefully cradled Bran in his arms like a young babe. Steffon rested his head on Bran's chest. The thump of his heart beat was like music to Steffon's ears. He was still alive. Using his legs, Steffon pushed himself up with Bran still clasped to his chest. The direwolf began howling again and followed Steffon as he sprinted as well as he could, to the nearest guard. The guard was standing outside the castle entrance. He was pacing back and forth, distributing dust in the atmosphere in front of him.

"Please help him!"

The guard had a shocked expression as they transferred Bran from Steffon's arms to his. Steffon noticed the weight that had lifted from his arms. He hadn't noticed how heavy Bran actually was until he wasn't in his arms anymore.

"He was climbing- and- and- he-" Steffon tried to explain but his voice got caught in his throat like he had an illness. But he had no illness. Just panic.

"And what? What happened!" The guard asked.

"I don't know." Steffon said. "But I'm going to find out."

The guard hurried inside the castle with Bran and Steffon rushed in the opposite direction heading back to the tower where Bran was thrown from. Winterfell wind burned his face as he ran. His heart was thumping hard in his chest as he reached the tower.

His mind was a blur as he climbed. Who was up there? Why would they push Bran? Would they push him to? Maybe this was a bad idea. Should he climb back down and get guards to investigate? By the time Steffon processed the thought of recruiting guards to help, he was already at the opening in the tower. The stones felt icy beneath his sweaty hands. One hand at a time, Steffon wiped his hands on his thighs to rid of the stickiness. Then once he felt more stable, Steffon maneuvered himself closer to the gap.

Slowly, Steffon poked his head in. A man and a woman came into view. Both of their head flowed with golden locks. They stared at Steffon, their green eyes piercing out against the darkness of the inaugural in the tower. Steffon let his jaw unhinge.

"Mother?" He questioned.

The pair of Lannister's had fear dancing upon their faces. It was something that was extremely queer to Steffon. Cersei never displayed fear. The queen jerked at her slack gown, pulling it to cover her bareness. They appeared as disorientated as Steffon's mind was at the moment. His mother and uncle were dripping in sweat. Their complexions were flushed and pink like they had just fought a duel of some sorts and they were half naked. In the back of Steffon's mind the situation was perfectly clear but he didn't want to believe it.

"Steffon." Cersei's voice was barley a whisper.

During his rush of thoughts, he'd managed to pull himself the rest of the journey up and now was presented to Cersei and Jaime. Steffon watched as Cersei turned to his uncle Jaime. She had blatantly obvious anxiety about her. Using her backhand, his mother smacked her brother square in the chest as to say 'do something.' Jaime raised his hands in defence and question.

"What do you want me to do? Push him out of the window too?"

"Of course not!" She said. "But we have to do _something_!"

Steffon butt in the conversation. "I'm standing right here!"

Steffon desired to accuse them of doing the vial action he was sure they committed. He unlocked his mouth but hastily clamped it back shut again. It all clicked. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. The hair. The favouritism. How he resembled Robert while all three of his siblings took after their mother.

"You…" He addressed Cersei. "And- and Jaime…" Steffon trailed off.

Cersei rushed over to her eldest son and grasped his hands so hard they turned an odd shade of pinkish white. "You mustn't tell anyone! You must not!"

Steffon ripped his hands away from his mother's tight hold. He was disgusted. How could his mother and uncle Jaime do such a crime? They could both be locked away in a cell if he told anyone.

"That cannot be promised."

Cersei flinched away at Steffon words which made his stomach sink with guilt but he was done with trying to get in Cersei's good graces. Never had sucking up to her worked. Never had lying worked. Never had putting up with Joffrey's bullshit worked. After the incident with Joffrey, Steffon decided that he needed to ice over his heart when it comes to Cersei and his brother. It made Steffon feel wicked but it had to be done if he was to ever rule the seven kingdoms.

 **That was a very short chapter (I need to work on writing longer chapters) but I got major writers block. If anyone has suggestions on what they would like me to write that would be fabulous. And what characters would you like Steffon to interact with? Thank you for still reading this fanfiction after my long hiatus. Please review! I love reviews and they give me extra motivation.**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


	6. Attempted revenge

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones. Some dialogue is taken directly from the show.**

Cersei and Jaime.

Cersei and Jaime fucking.

His mother and his uncle fucking.

Steffon couldn't shake the revolting image from his head. As much as he wanted to forget it and act like nothing ever happened, it replayed over and over and over. Not only was his mother betraying his father but they were committing incest. Steffon had to swallow back his breakfast when he thought about it. It disgusted him but what made Steffon really wanted to vomit was the fact that Jaime all but murdered Bran by pushing him out of the tower. An innocent boy. If Bran died Steffon was prepared to tell the Starks what his uncle did. They deserved answers if Bran wasn't going to survive. But Steffon prayed to the seven with all he had that Bran was.

Right after he had discovered what had happened in the tower, Steffon made his way to his fathers chambers as fast as he could without making a scene. A couple of civilians gave him odd stares but Steffon didn't care.

When he reached the rooms of his father he ignored the guard's protests and burst the door open anyway. He instantly regretted it. Three whores as nude as their name days danced around the chamber. Robert was sprawled on the bed, Steffon thanked the gods that he was fully clothed, with a women straddling him. The smell of sex clung to the air causing Steffon to crunch up his nose.

"Father." Steffon interrupted awkwardly.

"Steffon, my boy, here to join the fun?" Robert chuckled.

"No. actually I wanted to discuss something with you." The pale women, more like girl, got off the king and wandered over to her fellow whores and started _entertaining_ each other. Steffon averted his eyes from them and back to his father. "Alone"

Robert waved his hand signaling the whores to leave and they left, giggling as they did so. One of them brushed their hand against Steffon's cheek leaving something wet and sticky. Steffon hastily wiped it away and he felt his face turn hot.

Robert struggled to lift himself into an upright position. Steffon yanked him up by the arm and then sat down next to him.

"What was so important that you had to send away a good fuck, eh?" Robert asked.

Steffon struggled to get the words out. "I saw- um- Mother- she has been- Jaime- I…"

Robert gave him a rough pat on the back "Motherandunclejaimearehavingsex"

Steffon felt a sense of relief as soon as he got the words out but his chest felt heavy again when his father gave him a confused look. "I couldn't hear you, son."

Steffon took a deep breath.

"I saw mother and uncle Jaime having sex in the tower."

"I know."

" _You know_?"

Robert hung an arm around his son's shoulder. "I've always known."

"Then why haven't you done anything?"

Robert looked sympatric which was a queer sight to Steffon. There were a few sentimental memories the pair had shared, like Robert teaching him how to hunt, but overall the king had been in a drunk state and fooling around with whores most of Steffon's life.

"What was I supposed to do?" Steffon's father questioned. "Throw her and the kingslayer into one of the Black Cells?"

Steffon shrugged. He was at a loss for words.

"Nah. It would leave you without a mother. And Tommen and Myrcella. Do you know what would happen to them? I would never do that."

"But without mother or Joffrey wouldn't your life be happier?" Steffon said. "Then maybe you could marry someone you truly love?"

"The women I loved died along time ago." Roberts voice was thick with emotion.

Steffon still couldn't say anything. He could barley comprehend what just happened. Robert knew all these years about Cersei's affair yet did nothing. Steffon couldn't imagine letting betrayal like that go but then he couldn't imagine life without his mother, Tommen, Myrcella and even Joffrey. Maybe Robert was doing the right thing by not doing anything about Cersei's affair. Technically Robert was doing the same thing, minus the incest part. Robert has been cheating on her with whores for years. Steffon wasn't sure if it was actually cheating since most men dabble with whores but he knew what it wasn't right and he would never be disloyal to his wife, which seemed to be Arya at the moment, like that.

The next few days spent at Winterfell were uncomfortable to say the least. He'd attempted not to interact with his mother and the only time they acknowledged each other was awkward glances.

The only good part of the rest of their stay at Winterfell was when his uncle Tyrion came down to breakfast one day and Myrcella asked him if Bran was going to live. He said yes. It was all Steffon could do from jumping out of his seat with joy and Marcella's smile lit up the room as she seemed equally ecstatic. Steffon happily devoured his feast. The taste of slightly burnt bacon exploded in his mouth. But then he caught a glimpse between Cersei and her twin. He could see the worry in his mother's eyes. He hoped that her and Jaime didn't try anything.

* * *

The return to Kings Landing was long and with Joffrey whining the whole way, just like the expedition to Winterfell, made Steffon pleased to have the journey over with and to be home.

The climate change from Winterfell to Kings Landing was very drastic. As soon as Steffon's body had gotten used to the frosty air and the wet snow of the north, he got whisked away back to the south. The sun burning on his back felt even hotter then usual and atmosphere reeked of shit and sweat. Steffon's nostrils had become accustom to the smell as he was quite the outdoorsmen and spent most of his time outside of the castle.

The escape to the north didn't change that. As soon as they arrived home with the Stark girls and their father in tow, Steffon was exploring the outdoors.

Greenery and the murky sent of lake surrounded him and he could hear wildlife that currently resided in the area. Choirs of birds invades his ear. He contently listened until a voice interrupted.

"You!"

Steffon whipped his head around to see who it was. Arya stood there with a wooden stick in hand. Behind her was a redheaded boy with a freckled covered face that look to be about the same age as her, twelve. He also had a wooden stick. In Steffon's opinion he looked a bit frightened.

"You know how to fight right?" She asked.

Steffon thought about it for a moment.

"I guess."

Arya look satisfied with the answer. "I want you to teach me."

"How to fight?"

She rolled her eyes as if it was an obvious statement. "Duh."

"But… You're a girl."

Pain coursed through Steffon side as Arya whacked him with the stick. Steffon held his throbbing hip.

"What the fuck, Arya?"

She didn't respond, just crossed her arms.

Steffon ended up agreeing to help out with the duo's training even if he wasn't the perfect person to teach them but it seemed like a harmless act. Mycah, the redhead, wasn't very good with a sword, in this case stick, but Arya exceled at the sport. Steffon, who was also wasn't using a real sword, was fending them off at the same time. Every time they couldn't block his "sword" he'd lightly jab them where ever they couldn't block. The trio had agreed on a twenty second penalty where they couldn't fight. Steffon was surprising having a lot of fun with the younger children. He hadn't really ever played with kids this much younger than him and he enjoyed being the teacher. Steffon almost forgot about his current issues with his family until he heard a voice behind him.

"Arya!" It sounded like Sansa.

Arya swung around to face her sister, who was with Joffrey, and Steffon accidently whacked her in the arm. She yelled out a "ow" and Steffon cringed and mouthed an apology.

"What are you doing here?" Arya demanded. "Go away!"

Joffrey wandered closer to them "Your sister?" He inquired.

Steffon fought from rolling his eyes. He knew that Joffrey recognised who Arya Stark was.

"And who are you, boy?" Joffrey approached Mycah.

Mycah appeared terrified and he released his stick. "Mycah, milord."

"He's the butcher's boy." Sansa informed.

"He's my friend!" Interrupted Arya.

Joffrey had a devilish grin on his face as he walked even closer to Mycah. Steffon let his stick drop the ground and he grasped the handle of his real sword which was tucked in its sheath.

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, eh?" Joffrey unleashed his blade. "Pick up your sword, butcher's boy, lets see how good you are."

"She asked me to, milord." Mycah repeated, "She asked me to."

"I'm your prince, not your lord and I said pick up your sword."

Mycah tried to diverge the situation. "It's not a sword, my prince. It's only a stick."

"And you're not a knight, only a butcher's boy." He raised his sword up to Mycah's face. "That was my lady's sister and my brother you were hitting. Did you know that?"

"Stop it!" Arya spat.

Sansa attempted to shut her up. "Arya, stay out of this."

"I won't hurt him," Joffrey grinned. "much."

"Come on Joffrey," Steffon tried to reason. "You don't need to harm him."

Joffrey lowered his sword against Mycah's cheek causing blood to spill out. Mycah whimpered as Joffrey scratched, what was going to be an eventual scar, down Mycah's face. The young boy squeezed his eyes shut, noticeably in pain. The air was thick with tension.

Arya swung her wooden sword, nailing Joffrey in the shoulder.

As Sansa screamed at Arya, Mycah bolted, running in the opposite direction. Joffrey started swinging his sword frantically at Arya but the girl ducked and dodged the blade. That's when Steffon drew the sword fully from its scabbard. The blades clanged when they struck together. Sansa continued to scream at them as they fought. Joffrey allowed Steffon's sword to strike him in the forearm as he took one last swipe at Arya, knocking her to the ground.

Joffrey pointed his sword at the girl and Steffon at Joffrey. Joffrey was stuck. If he gutted Arya, then Steffon would slice him open like a fish.

Then, out of nowhere, Arya's direwolf struck. It rounded the bushes leaped on top of Steffon's little brother, gnawing on his arm. The sword flew from his grasp and landed on the ground. Joffrey screamed and screamed. Blood poured out of his arm like a cup being overflowed.

"Nymeria!" Arya tried to tug the direwolf off.

It finally released Joffrey and backed away, its mouth bloody and still held a flap of Joffrey's skin. Arya pick up the forgotten sword and held it in Joffrey's direction and Steffon did the same. Joffrey looked from Arya to Steffon and his eyes filled with pitiful tears.

"No…" He whimpered. "No… Please don't."

"Arya, Steffon leave him alone." Sansa pleaded.

Joffrey sobbed a couple of more times until Arya motioned for Steffon to lower his sword. Steffon reluctantly did so. She neared the river's edge and she held the handle with both hands. Arya grunted as she flung Joffrey's sword with all her might into the river. It plopped into the water with a splash.

She raced into the forest with Nymeria loyally trailing after her. Steffon slide his sword back into its sheath and he could hear Nymeria barking in the distance.

Joffrey was still curled up on the ground and Steffon could barley not scoff at him. The bite wasn't even that bad but he felt tiny flicker of sympathy and he was torn between helping his brother and following his betrothal.

Steffon gave Joffrey one more glance before sprinting into the woods to find Arya.

 **Authors note: I know I haven't updated in a long time. But with school and exams I was really overwhelmed. And now that it is summer (FINALLY) I have time to write again. Please review and tell me what you would like to see.**

 **Ps. I know that I probably didn't need to but I changed the rating to M because I'm paranoid.**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


	7. Not lying

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**

 **Authors note: I am writing this after watching the season 6** **finale and I am distraught. If you haven't watched it yet *SPOILER ALERT* Margaery dies. She was my favourite character in the entire series and I'm going to miss the Tyrell sassiness on my screen every Sunday. I had big plans for Margaery in this fanfiction and now I'm conflicted. Would you like Margaery to still make an appearance or would you like me to let her original storyline be? I have a poll on my profile on which character Steffon should interact with and she is still on the list. I am so sad over her departure from the show but I still have a bit of hope since her death was off screen and her story arch seemed pointless and unfinished at her death. Now that I have rambled, on to the story.**

"Arya!" Steffon called "Wait!"

Steffon stumbled through the forest desperately trying to catch up with the girl who just beat up his brother. Slack branches hung from trees and he used his forearm to shove them away. Twigs cracked under his feet as he ran. The only way he had to find her was Nymeria's large paw marks that were printed on the ground and the distance howling. The prints were deeply set into the muddy surface and Steffon assumed it was because of the direwolf's great weight. As Steffon ran, he tried his hardest to mask the direwolf's motifs by quickly scuffing them with his boot. That's when he noticed that the set of direwolf tracks and footprints Steffon assumed to be Arya's set of in different directions. It wasn't a clear split. It looked as Nymeria was hesitate to leave her owner and circled around a few times before leaving Arya. Steffon took off in the route of the human.

Still, Steffon camouflaged the prints. He wondered if Arya even thought to cover her tracks. Probably not. She was scared and undoubtedly couldn't think straight. It was hard for Steffon to remember that the fierce girl was only twelve. At that age Steffon would have gone insane if he thought he was in this much trouble.

The tracks seemed to go on forever and it make sense to Steffon. From the short amount of time he'd seen her run away from the incident at the river, Steffon could tell she was a fast runner. Now, not being able to find her, he regretted pausing and deliberating whether or not to stay with Joffrey or go find Arya. He was going to marry this girl someday and he needed to learn to put her interest first. Steffon didn't have a great marriage role model to follow since his parent's nuptial went up in flames. No, he didn't love Arya but he hoped he could learn to. If he could find her first.

Steffon chased the footprints but it was difficult following the trail since by then it had gotten dark. The rays of sun that shined at river was now replaced by a glowing moon. Steffon struggled to see clearly through the dark night. It was pathetic and Steffon scolded himself for it but he was worried. Worried that he'd never find Arya. Worried that they'd be punished for what they did to Joffrey. Hell, Steffon was even worried about the fate of Joffrey's arm.

But all that worried lifted when he heard it. A soft whisper emerged from the darkness.

"Pssst, Steffon. I'm over here."

"Arya?" He questioned.

"Who do you think it is, stupid?"

Obviously it was Arya and Steffon laughed despite the direness of the situation. Steffon squinted and could scarcely make out Arya's face peeping out from behind a large tree. He slowly crept forward. Once he was close enough she shot out around the bark and sunk into his embrace. Not expecting it, Steffon stumbled backwards.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She mumbled into his chest.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay." Steffon attempted to comfort the younger girl. "It's not your fault. Joffrey antagonized you and Mycah. He started it."

Her hands flew to her mouth. "What about Mycah? What happened to him?"

"I don't know; he ran away remember?"

"Oh. Promise me nothing will happen to him?"

"Arya…" Steffon trailed off, not wanting to make a promise he couldn't keep.

"Please," She grabbed a fist full of his shirt. "Promise me?"

Desperation filled Arya's eyes and Steffon felt guilty. He couldn't promise Mycah's safety. Obtaining control over Mycah's fate was impossible because of Joffrey's temper. Steffon didn't know if he could do anything.

Steffon couldn't stop the lie from leaving his lips.

"I promise."

A long sign escaped from Arya and she looked relieved. Steffon automatically felt his stomach flip. He didn't want Arya to have too much hope. What ever will happen to Mycah wasn't his decision. It was the kings and Steffon wasn't the king yet and he hoped his father would believe them over Joffrey.

"What do we now?"

Steffon thought about it. He honestly didn't know. Joffrey was probably furious with him for ganging up on him and returning to the castle would lead them to the guards without any idea for a plan. Steffon was just about to tell that to Arya when they heard a shout.

"Steffon!"

Another shout.

"Arya!"

Arya opened her mouth to yell back when Steffon tapped her shoulder and put a slim finger to his lips signaling her silence.

"Shhhh! They could be Lannister men."

"But they could be Sark men!"

"Do you really want to find out?" Steffon said. "Come on, this way."

Arya grabbed Steffon hand as he pulled her deeper into the forest. Her hand felt small and sweaty in his own. It was a weird feeling for Steffon. He wasn't a physical interaction kind of guy and he'd never held hands with a female before. He hadn't _anything_ with a female before. Ew, Steffon. He mentally scolded himself. She's twelve. You're sixteen. It's nothing romantic. You and Arya are friends. Barley. You just met. Stop being an idiot.

Arya tightened her grip on Steffon's hand when he tried to pull away and yanked him harder. She was smaller and faster than he was and Steffon had difficulty keeping up. Instead of Steffon leading her, now she was leading him. As they ran they could see flames of the torches dancing in between the trees and they were getting closer. The duo picked up their pace.

"Their getting closer." Steffon breathed

It was true. The flames illuminating the night were slowly drifting closer and Steffon couldn't help looking back over his shoulder as they ran. Steffon didn't know what would happen if the Lannister men caught them but he could guess. They would take them directly to his mother. Or Joffrey. And the would question them over and over until they got a satisfying answer.

Steffon wouldn't have to keep predicting for much longer as he heard one of the men with a deep voice bellow out to his men. "Over here! I see them!"

As they came closer Steffon could see the men clearer and Steffon realized why they were so fast. Horses. Their torches lit up a tiny portion of the forest and shinned against the metal of the men's armor. Steffon could see the sigil plainly. The lion design on the guard's golden breastplates sparkled as the flame shone upon them.

A lion.

The Lannister men had found them.

Shit.

Suddenly his arms were seized tightly. Arya was grabbed also.

"Let me go!" Arya struggled in the guard's grip and he smiled down at her cruelly.

"You're going to have fun when the queen gets a hold of you."

* * *

"Where's my daughter!" Eddard Stark burst into the room and pushed a guard out of the way. "Move!"

Once he got past all the commotion he pulled his youngest daughter into his arms. He looked so relieved and Steffon wondered what it would be like to be shown affection by a parent. For majority of his life his mother was devoted to her golden child and his father was drunk. If he went missing they'd hardly notice. He _did_ go missing and all that they were concerned about was Joffrey's direwolf bite.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Arya apologized.

Ned cradled Arya closer and told her it was all right before addressing Steffon's parents. "What is the meaning of this?"

Cersei stood next to the king with her arm draped securely around Joffrey. Her green eyes looked like wildfire as she stared Steffon and Arya down. It made Steffon uneasy.

"Your daughter and the butcher's boy attacked my son." She said. "They beat him with wooden poles and set her wolf on him. Nearly ripped off his arm."

Arya interrupted "She did not! Only bit him a little."

"That beast almost killed me!" Joffrey exploded.

"She didn't!"

"Joffrey, Nymeria scarcely bit you! And you started the fight to begin with!" Steffon tried.

"Did not!"

"Enough!" Robert yelled.

Everyone quickly hushed, then Robert addressed his queen.

"What do you want me to do? Kids fight."

Cersei looked appalled. "Your son nearly died!"

"Not according to Steffon."

"Steffon lies." She accused.

"I do not! I know what happened and I'm telling the truth!" Steffon paused for a moment. "Unless you want everyone to know a detail that you left out."

Steffon made sure she understood his threat. She did. Her face froze for a moment before she shook it off. Her and Joffrey began to departure the room without another word except Joffrey's protests. Cersei stopped in front of Steffon and gave her son a stare so cold, it made him shudder. Then, they left the room and Steffon could hear Joffrey cry as they left.

"Mother! Why aren't they punished? Why are we leaving? It's not fair! I almost died!"

Ned faced Steffon. "Want everyone to know what?"

"Nothing."

And with that Steffon exited the room.

 **Another authors note: First off, currently I'm at my cottage, which doesn't have internet, so I didn't get the end scene exactly right from the show but I tried. Secondly, I promise the whole story won't be canon but I need to build up to the twist, which is coming next chapter. I saved Lady, so I hope your happy with that little change. Lastly, I know Arya may seem a little OOC but please remember this is season 1 Arya, not badass season 6 Arya. And now I'm going to re-watch season 3 when Robb Stark and Margaery were still alive.**

 **Please review!**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


	8. Death of a king

**Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Game of Thrones.**

The past days were a particularly unusual week for Steffon. Unlike the most of his life, Cersei was actually trying to build a relationship with her eldest son, which seemed odd to him considering the circumstances of what happened between them earlier. A part of him believed that it was a ploy to regain his trust or a bribe to keep his mouth shut but Steffon, against what his gut told him to do, remained civil towards his mother.

Still, they avoided the topic of the queen's sexual relationship with her brother at all costs. They made small talk and keep heavy conversation to a minimum of zero. They would eat their midday meal together and Steffon would pick at his lemon cake and avoid eye contact.

Steffon expected a larger backlash for blackmailing her. But the shrieks and the threatening never came. This made Steffon on edge; always anticipating for her or Joffrey to crack.

And of course, Joffrey was still furious at him. That was normal. The only abnormality was the fact Joffrey did nothing about it. No threats. No fights. The brothers didn't even talk to each other and the only time they barley communicated was between the battle of Loras Tyrell and the Mountain.

It had started out nicely. Everyone had gathered at the tournament and were humming with anxiety and excitement and bets on who win. The royal family was up on a platform and when the battle between Loras and Gregor finally rolled around, Cersei was no longer present. She had stormed off and now her seat remained empty.

Steffon caught sight of Sansa's fiery hair and discovered her in the crowd of lords and ladies. Sansa was sitting with Petyr Baelish and her father and Steffon thought it was safer without his mother staring down his back, to leave his spot with his family. He waved and she flashed him a perfect smile and motioned for him to come over. As soon as he lifted himself out of his chair he heard his brother's whiny voice.

"Where do you think your going?"

Seven hells.

"To go sit with lady Sansa and her father."

"No."

Steffon paused in his tracks and turned slightly to look over his shoulder.

"No?" Steffon repeated.

"She's my property now. And I say, you can't sit with her."

"Fuck off, Joffrey."

Much to Steffon's surprise, Joffrey said nothing. As Steffon leaped off the podium and walked towards Sansa, he glanced over his shoulder and witnessed Joffrey's internal meltdown. His face turned redder and redder until Steffon was sure it was going to combust. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side and his knuckles were turning white. Unshed tears of frustration glistened in Joffrey's eyes and Steffon was more than prepared for his little brother's backlash.

But it never came.

Joffrey angrily rose from his seat and knocked it over before raging off. This left Steffon curious. Why didn't he fight back?

Steffon let it slide over his shoulder like nothing happened.

The only moment that was becoming habitual was Robert and Steffon going hunting. It never was an occurring event until lately and Steffon assumed it was a way of retreating from Cersei and Joffrey. Steffon could identify with that scenario and when his father invited him to go, Steffon eagerly accepted.

They ordered a guard to quickly gather their hunting gear and off they went.

It was a hot day in Kings Landing. The sun was beating down on Steffon's back and he wished that he wore lighter clothing. He could tell his father thought so too, as he kept swigging the wine that Lancel Lannister had provided. What seemed really odd was that Lancel was encouraging the king to drink. Why would you want a man swinging a spear around to be drunk?

Steffon was careful to keep his distance at the front of the pack. He would prefer that he wasn't impaled by a spear today.

He glanced over his shoulder at Robert. His puffy face was glistening with sweat and he was using his spear as a cane to press his weight onto. Steffon wondered how it didn't snap already.

"Father," he addressed. "Maybe you should take a break."

"Nonsense boy!"

Lancel hurried around to the king and held out the leather canteen. The poor lad looked terribly nervous.

"Would you like some more wine, your grace?"

Robert snatched the container out of Lancel's shaking hands and took a huge gulp. A drip of red wine ran down his chin. Robert thrust the canteen out in front of him, towards Steffon.

"Would you like some?"

"No thank you, father."

"Oh come on! Have some wine!"

Steffon grabbed the canteen and raised it up to his lips. The red wine filled his mouth and the taste bit his tongue. The liquid spilled down his throat, burning on the way down. It wasn't a pleasant experience and Steffon didn't know why his father enjoyed it. Steffon grimaced and shoved the wine back into Lancel's awaiting hands.

After a lot more wine and a few awkward conversations, Robert was officially drunk. Steffon had to admit his was also a little tipsy.

That's when Robert saw it.

A wild boar roaming the Kingswood. It was a way deeper into the forest but Robert was convinced his saw it in the distance and wanted to track and kill it alone.

"Are you sure?" Steffon questioned. "I could come with you."

The king laughed loudly and slapped Steffon hard on the back. "Eager are we? Come on then."

The two intoxicated men wondered farther into the forest, looking for the boar. Steffon had almost given up on finding it when Robert suddenly stopped in his tracks. Steffon bumped into his fathers back and stumbled.

"What are y-"

"Shhhh. There it is. "

A humongous boar emerged out of the clump of trees and approached the king and his first son. The beast grunted angrily and Steffon assumed it wasn't the friendliest animal.

"Maybe we should leave it alone."

"No," Robert said. "I've got it."

Robert held the spear tightly in his pudgy hand and pointed it directly at the boar. But then the boar charged at Robert unexpectedly and he couldn't defend himself in his drunken state. The spear slipped from his hands and toppled off the back of the boar and on to the ground and Robert had nothing to protect himself. Large tusks slit into his stomach.

By the time Steffon sprung into action it was too late. Fatty tissue and blood was spilling from his father like pasta. The boar's tusks still were launched into Roberts abdomen. The animal yanked and tugged to try to release its tusks from the king's stomach. That few moments gave Steffon time to grab the spear off the ground and slick it through the boar. The creature screamed and struggled before going limp.

Steffon felt nauseous and he staggered over to his father. Blood soaked the front of the king and his eye rolled to the back of his head.

"F-father?"

The future king hurried over to his dying father and let his knees fall beside Robert. He ignored the burning when his knees slammed the forest floor and clutched his fathers hand in his own and squeezed it tightly.

"Father? Please… answer me." He chocked back a sob.

Steffon never thought of himself as a person that lets other people see his emotions but in this moment he didn't care. All he wanted was for his father to stand up and be alright. For the blood pooling around him to disappear and be a hallucination. For none of this to be real and they were all in the castle. Still alive.

But it was real. His father wasn't going to get up and live. He would never step foot back into his home. It was not all a hallucination. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks leaving marks on his dirty face. His heart felt like it had been physically crushed beyond repair. Steffon lifted himself up, wiped the salty tears from his face and was prepared to deliver the news to the guards when pain suddenly erupted in the back of Steffon's skull and he fell to the ground. He curled into a fetal position and clutched at his head. Steffon's vision doubled as he was lifted from the ground by the collar of his shirt and placed roughly on his feet. His legs felt weak and he almost wobbled over a few times but he refused to fall. He raised his head and he was met with cold eyes that locked with his own. Through his blurry sight, Steffon didn't know who his tormenter was but the tall man had the same lion on his chest than the Lannister guards that had turned in Arya when Nymeria bit Joffrey's hand.

Then it all clicked.

Why Cersei and Joffrey were being civil with him.

Why Joffrey didn't stop Steffon from sitting with Sansa.

They had a plan all along. Just when Steffon thought he had won the fight, Joffrey and Cersei were already two steps ahead.

The tall man with the Lannister breastplate slipped out his sword and held it by the top of the handle. Before Steffon could comprehend what was happening the man brought the handle down on his head. The back of his skull felt like it was on fire. Again, the handle whacked against his cranium. His eyesight went darker than it already was.

As the final blow came crashing down Steffon only had one thought bouncing in his brain.

His mother and Joffrey were only acting decent to him because they knew it was only a matter of time before he was gone permanently.

Dead.

Then everything spun sending him into a world of darkness.

 **Authors note: Okay, I know I haven't updated in ALONG time but better late then never right? I actually have had this chapter written for the longest time but I haven't decided where exactly to go from here but I have a few plans. I would love to hear your ideas for this story so please leave a review! I'll try to post chapters more often.**

 **Awkwardnarwhal93**


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